Where is the other lady?

Okay, so one of the oddest questions of the past week was asked by an older student who came up after the librarian on the previous shift had left.

"Where's the other lady who was preparing a list for me?"
"A list?"
"Yeah, she was making me a list of sources for my research paper."
(Yeah, right!  And now pull the other leg!)  "What's your research paper about?"
"Like love or marriage or something."
(Ah!  That reference list!)  "Well, I don't know about a list, but I'll be happy to show you how to use the library catalog and databases so you can do your own research."
(BIG pause.)
"No, that's okay."

And she left.  Huh.

Curse of the Copy Machine

They don't teach you how to unjam copier paper in library school.  They don't tell you how much of a headache it is to explain to adults how to make copies on a copy machine.  They don't offer a Psychology of Copy Machine Idiots course in grad school even though it should be a required class for all librarians.

They don't explain how to add copy paper quickly and efficiently.  They don't demonstrate how to shake the urinal so that more copies can be made.  They don't tell you that during some shifts your entire job will revolve around a malfunctioning copier and have absolutely nothing to do with answering reference questions, working on collection development, cataloging the odd book, or any other activity that you do study in library school.

And finally, they don't caution you that you may one day have to be part of a police sting operation to catch a copier thief like the one that went down at Tyson's Pimmit Library in Fairfax County in the 1980s.

How Can Librarians and Cyberlibrarians Save Us All?

Author Marilyn Johnson in her new book This Book Is Overdue: How Librarians and Cyberlibrarians Can Save Us All has decided to tell us.  After reading The New York Times review of the book this morning, I decided this was a must buy.  And Amazon provided a Publishers Weekly starred review as well.  (Having been a PW reviewer for about 15 years and knowing how much extra trouble reviewers go through to make something a starred review, I sat up and took more notice.)

Being the very, very happy owner of a Kindle, I immediately bought a copy (delivered in under a mouse's breath) and will read it after I finish the Lynn Kurland and Betty Neels novels that are in the queue before it.

Suspicious, suspicious...

This week a student walked in asking for a list of alternatives to standard fairytales for a paper she was writing for class.  I proceeded with the typical reference interview:  What did she mean by alternatives?  Retellings that were slightly different?  (Idries Shaw's World Tales immediately came to mind.)

After some back and forth, after I suggested The True Story of the Three Little Pigs by A. Wolf, Wicked and a couple of other perfectly hilarious retellings of traditional children's tales--not necessarily fairy tales--she decided what she really wanted was a feminist retelling of a fairytale or children's story.

At that point I was stumped although in the back of my mind I could remember some writer who studied children's stories from an alternative viewpoint, which I thought was feminist, and I vaguely remembered this author as having mentioned feminist fairytales/children's stories in her books.  (I since realized I was thinking about Jane Yolen.)

Why work in a library? Isn't it boring?

Today the answer came to me--literally.  A huge black guy came charging up to the reference desk today.  He was scowling and looked more like he wanted to beat me up than talk to me.

"I need to read The Color Purple," he barked at me.

I typed the title into the online catalog, coming up with a number of hits.

"This one is an electronic book.  You can read it online from any computer that's got Internet hookup.  This one's on the shelf and hasn't been checked out," I told him, pointing at my screen.

"I'll take the real book," he said, still glowering.

I wrote down the call number and explained how to read it and where he could find it on the shelves.

A while later, I was standing by the reference desk, having helped another student at her computer.  Suddenly, I felt someone behind me put his arms around me.

It was the Alice Walker reader.

"I found it!" he said hugging me.  "Thank you so much!"

He was smiling--and quite handsome now with the ugly expression wiped off his face.

"Enjoy the book," I answered, giving him a quick hug back.

"Oh, I will!  Thank you!"

And that's why I want to work in a library.  Yes, it's boring.  But when it's not, it's wonderful.